Tis the Season to be Jolly
by poi922
Summary: A Library Vignette: In which Finch and Reese are invited to a party, Bear is embarrassed...and I provide my own version of the POI holiday scenes that did not air. ( POV Reese ) Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. Such a pity.


"Fiiinnnch…!"

Reese closes the gate behind him and stands staring in horror at Bear bounding toward him. The dog skids to a halt before him and proceeds quickly through proper greeting protocols before commencing the traditional scent scan of his pack leader's clothes in determining the who, what, and where of his outing.

But it isn't Bear's behavior that has Reese calling for his employer. No, it's the strange contraption on the animal's head that has him raising his voice beyond its habitual whisper.

"Antlers, Mr. Reese. You know, as in reindeer…?" Finch limps toward the pair, his hands full of what appeared to be strings of shredded red plastic. "Though I must admit not even close to realistic. Felt….embedded with LED lights." He grimaces at the idea that such a contrivance can even expected to emulate the real thing.

"Alright… And why is the dog wearing antlers, Finch?" But the words diffuse into empty space. The intended recipient of the question has already retreated back into the bowels of the library leaving the ex-op no choice but to follow, interrupting Bear, who is still attempting to finish the Alphas scent exam.

As Reese enters the main chamber he stills, momentarily allowing the dog's to resume the inspection. His attention is drawn to a small tree perched on the table normally reserved for cleaning weapons. A plastic tree. A well worn, slightly faded, green plastic tree. And he wonders vaguely why Finch would house such a scraggly item; it looks a bit like a Charlie Brown reject, and given Finch's financial situation, the billionaire can easily afford a 14k solid gold specimen, adorned with sterling silver ornaments and festooned with diamond chains.

Instead, he is looking at a five foot artificial facsimile of a diseased pine, decorated with Dollar Store Special curios and aged lights…several of which seemed to have given up any effort to illuminate. The shredded red plastic Finch had been toting around is now masquerading as a garland, draped somewhat haphazardly on the anorexic branches.

"So what do you think?" Finch asks, eyes sparkling like the lights in that pitiful tree, at least like those that still work. "There's still another box of ornaments to unpack…" The recluse has donned a red Santa hat, its ball tassel tossed to the back giving the hat the appearance of a rooster comb.

Reese is captivated, neither by the tree…nor the hat…but by the expression on his boss's face. It's been a long time, if ever, since he's seen Finch this relaxed. The ex-op smiles, simply enjoying the sight of his benefactor appearing almost….happy.

"It's missing something…" Finch muses, staring at the tree and tapping his chin before abruptly lurching to the back of the chamber. Reese watches the older man disappear behind the book stacks. A moment later sounds of boxes being shoved around drift back into the chamber and he wonders if he should help, or if that would be interpreted as an unwelcome concession to his employer's disabilities. Having decided to wait for a request for assistance, he turns instead to Bear, who has now moved the scent analysis from pants to shoes.

"Enough Bear…" Reese says softly, reaching down to scratch the dog's ears. "Yes, I was in the bodega earlier, and yes, I saw your girl friend. Now…_niet meer._" Bear glances at the Alpha and confirms the cease and desist order in his leaders face. With a final snort the dog trots toward his bespeckled companion returning with a large dusty box clutched to his chest.

"What's this about, Finch?"

"Well, John…." Finch replies with exaggerated patience, as he opens the cardboard box, "There's this thing that happens this time of year. It's December. You may have noticed it's snowing…the stores are all decorated…and there are fake Santa's everywhere…"

Reese acknowledges the sarcasm with a raised eyebrow, an expression wholly lost on his employer who is busy attaching a rather ragged looking angel to the top of the tree. Lacking the necessary support on the tree's top branch, the poor seraph leans drunkenly to the left and no amount of adjustment seems to convince this particular fallen angel to straighten up.

Probably just weary of symbolizing love, hope and peace in today's world, thinks Reese. Something with which he can identify.

Finch glares at the ex-op whose tilted head and pursed lips clearly convey his opinion of the pathetic display... "Come now, Mr. Reese. Get in the spirit! 'Tis the season to be jolly…and we've been invited to a party!" The latter pronouncement is definitely un-Finch like…almost bubbly.

"A party..."

"Yes. Our Detective's precinct is having their annual Christmas party and since we…well, it's not like we can just waltz in there… We're going to be virtual attendees!"

With a flourish he turns the larger of the monitors around to reveal the interior of the Precinct 8 bullpen crowded with NYPD's finest…where Reese notes with amusement that every attending cop is wearing a Santa hat. He can see Carter, a scarlet hat complimenting her dark hair, laughing at something Beecher has just said. And Fusco, hat askew on his curly locks, a silly grin suggesting he's likely been sampling the punch a bit too much already. Reese also recognizes several other officers, all fully engaged in party mode.

"It's our toy cop cam. I had Fusco to put it on the file cabinet yesterday so we'd get a broader view of the festivities. And their rule is... you don't get in unless wearing the proper headgear." With that pronouncement, Finch opens a shopping bag and presents two items to Reese.

"The Santa hat…or antlers?"

"You're kidding me, Finch!"

"Not at all. Or did you have other plans for tonight?" Finch asks innocently, mentally assessing which headgear will look best on his employee. "I think the Santa hat. Bear already has antlers…"

He hands Reese the hat, then with an exasperated sigh sinks awkwardly down on one knee to re-adjust the antlers on Bear. Reese grins at the expression on the dogs face. Anthropomorphically speaking, it can only be defined as painful embarrassment.

Laboriously getting back on his feet, Finch watches Bear do head twists in an effort to grab the antlers, then turns to the ex-op. "Put on the hat, Mr. Reese. Red goes sooo well with a dark suit."

"I really don't think…"

"Shouldn't be a problem, Mr. Reese. One size fits all…" Finch ignores Reese's pained expression, and waves a hand toward the desk. "I also made some eggnog. Very tasty. And of course…fattening."

The ex-op gazes again at the tree as the sounds of a raucous party well lubricated with an open bar fills the chamber. Evidently neither Carter nor Fusco are concerned that their party antics will be under surveillance and broadcast to the library. Reese plans to be very careful to keep this surveillance information to himself, knowing that not for a minute will Carter approve, if she knew about it!

As for Fusco…the ex-op is not concerned. Fusco will be so soused by evening's end, the detective won't even remember the existence of the cop cam, much less moving it to a more advantageous position on orders from Finch.

"So where did you get the tree, Finch?" Reese finally asks, desperately searching for a way to take his boss's mind off the hat issue. "Looks...mm...pre-owned."

"I found it in a box in the back. Must have been left over from when this was a working library." Finch replies, frowning at what he obviously perceives as a negative review of his tree.

And Reese feels an instant pang of regret for making the off-the-cuff comment. His boss hasn't looked this content since his release from the clutches of that mental case, Root. If this party is giving Finch some joy, then he's was not going to be the wet blanket that dampens the mood! He smiles broadly, hoping to convey his comment was merely a joke.

"Well, its got character…" And he slowly places the cap, liberally trimmed with fake fur, on his head. Finch nods his approval, reaching up to reposition the hat. Reese sighs but lowers his head to allow the older man to fuss over him.

An ex-CIA sniper in a Santa hat. It defines an alternate universe…

Having made adjustments to his satisfaction, Finch once more scrutinizes the tree, this time with an expression that the ex-op has learned to recognize as Finch in his professor mode. A Lecture will soon follow…

"Did you know this tree tradition probably evolved from pagan rituals celebrating the winter solstice? The Druids, the Egyptians, the Romans…all had versions of end-of-year celebrations involving evergreens and mistletoe. It was much later before it merged with the beginnings of Christian beliefs."

Finch fine tunes the placement of a light string in the tree, frowning as several of them blink on and off, surely indicative of an electrical short. Reese grimaces at the sight. It isn't like this library has a working sprinkler system… But as his boss fiddles with the colored bulbs, the lecture is resumed.

"By the 1500's, most of Germany had adopted the custom of bringing an evergreen indoors and placing candles on it for decoration."

"A real fire hazard" Reese offers, not just referring to candles in this case.

The ex-op exchanges glances with Bear, suddenly aware the animal has been steadfastly attempting eye contact with him. The dog's expression clearly communicated displeasure at sporting antler headgear. And Reese knows exactly how the canine feels - not far removed from his own opinion about wearing the hat - but he tries sending a mental message: _Sorry, Bear, but we need to do this. It's important to Harold…"_

He focuses his attention back on Finch.

"I can only assume those households had buckets of water handy to douse any potential fires." Finch says, then turns at the sound of scratching…just in time to see Bear manage to finally stretch a paw upward, dislodge the antlers, and run back to his bed, the headpiece firmly clamped between his teeth.

"Bear…!"

The older man sighs heavily, and as though to compensate for the dogs transgression, reaches up to Reese and tugs the ex-op's hat more firmly in place.

"You're a fount of information, Finch." Reese says, pleased to see his boss in such a good mood.

He hopes he'd hid his concern, but there for a while he'd been desperate for Finch to engage with life again, get him away from the memory of Root and the somber reality of the Machine's constant download of Numbers. But who knew it would take a scraggly tree, a couple of Santa hats and a virtual party to accomplish that?

"It's a library, Mr. Reese. All this information can be found by simply opening the appropriate books."

Reese grins. "Sure. But I've always been more of an auditory learner. So please…continue."

Finch goes on, carefully placing several ornaments on branches. "The Europeans brought the tree tradition with them to America. Even the Roman Catholic Church eventually accepted the practice in the 1800's. Of course many countries had already adopted the custom. Except Russia. It banned all Christmas trees shortly after their October Revolution and the Communists didn't allow it again until the tree became a fully secular icon of the New Year holiday."

"A long history, Finch. Over two thousand years…"

Reese glances at the pitiful scrap of plastic twinkling in the gloomy chamber. He wonders at the resiliency of such a custom…though he supposes, it isn't really that hard to comprehend.

Traditions are forwarded through family, each generation passing societal rituals on to the next. But whether the end of the year is celebrated as Christmas, Hanukkah, Chinese New Year, Eid Al Adha, or a secular Winter Solstice…all are rooted in the same bedrock: family.

No matter what the custom, all are celebrated with family…relatives and friends.

Reese watches Finch unpack another dusty box and reminisces on all the seasons that passed without his giving any consideration to tradition. Most of those years he spent the holidays in some black hole in some God forsaken country around the world, in environs that frankly discouraged any celebration of love, joy and "peace on earth". So many times he hadn't even known what day it was…

Now he views the monitor, observing the two detectives who have become his friends in spite of their reservations…or in the case of Fusco, in spite of some skillfully applied coercion by the Man in a Suit.

He glances at his employer to whom he owes his very life, because only he knows the plans he'd already made to end it before Finch approached him with this job. Then there is Bear, the canine he rescued from an uncertain fate, devoted to him and this reclusive individual currently attempting to beautify that pathetic tree.

And as the ex-op watches Finch carefully unpack the cheap ornaments, the scene supplies him with an epiphany: he has a family now, of sorts. After all those years alone and in the dark, he has friends and family. And it is time to acknowledge the traditions of the season...

Reese reaches for the box of ornaments.

"Let me help you with that, Finch..."


End file.
